Seeker
by inthecupboard
Summary: 'Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it' but Hogwarts is not the only place where a young wizard can find safety. Pre-Hogwarts and year 1
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Revelations

On the day that Harry Potter found out he was a wizard, he was expecting to spend the day avoiding being rapped with Dudley's newly acquired Smelting stick (a bizarre piece of equipment-more of a weapon in Harry's opinion- required by Dudley's 'prestigious' boarding school). He managed to dodge out of its way for the fifth time that morning on his way to collect the post. The postman was attempting to wedge a small yellow box through the letterbox, so he picked up the letters from the mat and opened the door.

"Cheers sonny," the postman said with a wink, as he handed the package to Harry.

It was addressed to 'Mrs. Petunia Dursley, The Master Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey' in emerald green calligraphy. Harry thought it rather odd that the bedroom was included in the address. Then, he noticed that one of the letters was the same colour as the package and glanced at the address. That was even odder. It was addressed to him. 'Mr. Harry Potter, The Cupboard under the Stairs, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey'. He _never_ got letters. Never. And who, outside the family, knew where he slept?

Slipping his letter in his cupboard, so he could look at it in peace later, he returned to the breakfast table. He handed over a bill and a postcard from Aunt Marge to his uncle and the package to his aunt. She dropped the parcel on the table and went pale.

"It's from them," she gasped at Uncle Vernon.

"Boy, go to your cupboard. Dudders, up to your room," commanded Uncle Vernon getting to his feet. Harry grabbed a piece of toast and left, leaving Dudley wailing that he wanted to see what was in the parcel. There was the sound of a scuffle and a slamming door, then Dudley stomping up the stairs, rattling his Smelting stick on the banister as he did so. Dudley then stomped back down the stairs and opened the dining room door. Uncle Vernon, though, was having none of it. Harry heard a roar of fury and then several slaps. This really was turning into a strange day. Uncle Vernon _never_ punished Dudley. Never.

With a bubble of excitement, Harry opened the strange letter.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_I am pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed are your train ticket and a list of the supplies you will need to purchase. I have taken the liberty of sending a list of reputable stockists and some currency to your Aunt Petunia to facilitate your purchases. I would recommend reading at least the first chapter from each of your textbooks in preparation for the new term._

_Looking forward to meeting you on September 1__st__,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress._

Harry read the letter again. And then again. What was this school? Witchcraft? The letter seemed to assume he would be attending. The Dursleys seemed to know about it, judging by their behaviour at the breakfast table, but they didn't seem to want Harry to know. Did they?

"Boy," came Uncle Vernon's roar. Harry shoved his letter behind the mattress and the train ticket back into his pocket before he scrambled out of his cupboard and back into the dining room.

"Sit," said Uncle Vernon tersely. He pointed at the chair next to his aunt. Without speaking she pushed the opened package towards him. It contained a velvet pouch and a wad of parchment. The top sheet was a letter.

_Dear Mrs. Dursley,_

_I have sent this month's allowance for Mr. Potter in galleons to enable you to purchase the supplies he will need for Hogwarts. As you might remember, Diagon Alley can be accessed via The Leaky Cauldron on Charing Cross Road. I have enclosed a duplicate list of school supplies, along with recommended stockists, as well as the extra reading list for students from a non-magical background and the standard consent forms. There is also an outline of the curriculum for your information. If Mr. Potter requires a guide to accompany him on his shopping trip please use the return envelope to contact me. I will then make any necessary arrangements._

_Yours sincerely_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Harry looked at his aunt accusingly. They had an allowance for him from somewhere? They had been expecting this letter? Aunt Petunia's hands were trembling and there was a defiant expression on her face.

"It's magic," said Harry flatly, "All the stuff you hit me for. You knew."

"This is what's going to happen," cut in his uncle loudly. "I'm going to drive you to this Diagon Alley place and drop you off. You will not be coming back here. The other freaks can take responsibility for you now. We've done our duty and more. You are going to buy what you need and send a letter to the school. It's for them to tell you everything now. Go and pack a change of clothes in your school bag. We'll be leaving in ten minutes."

Harry picked up the parchments and the velvet bag and put them in his oversized pockets. His experience had told him that questions would get slaps for answers, so he didn't bother. His anger at the injustice of everything was threatening to overcome him, but he squashed it down. Now was not the time. He was going to escape the prison that was 4 Privet Drive. He couldn't jeopardize his escape.

Harry hurried to his cupboard and folded the least stained of his jeans and two t-shirts into his school bag on top of his pencil case and a part-used notebook. He stuffed in some underwear and socks thinking that he would buy some that fit him and throw this away as soon as he got a chance. His letter went into his pocket along with his ticket, now that he knew he did not need to hide it. He went upstairs to clean his teeth and heard Aunt Petunia send Dudley round to play at Piers Polkiss' house for the morning. 'So, no goodbye from Dudley,' thought Harry bracing himself. 'I know they don't care. Stop getting your hopes up,' he told himself silently. Uncle Vernon's voice boomed upstairs telling him to get in the bloody car if he didn't want to walk to London, and, knowing this was not an idle threat, Harry raced downstairs, taking the steps three at a time, grabbed his schoolbag and was slamming the car door closed as Uncle Vernon accelerated off the drive.

Though he had day-dreamed frequently about leaving the Dursley's, the dreams had featured a tall faceless man, driving him away to an untidy house in the countryside with a dog and a cat. He never imagined being dropped off alone in the middle of London. A part of him wanted to protest, to say he didn't want to leave, but a deeper part knew it was the only way. He would have at least an hour in the car to think about a plan to get help. Sure, his Uncle had told him to write to the school, but how long would it take them to respond to a letter?

Harry got the pile of parchments from his pocket and smoothed them open. There was a medical questionnaire, a permission slip to administer magical inoculations, and a form about magical mentors, as well as the documents described in the first letter. He was most interested in the curriculum outline, which seemed to feature the handwriting of different staff members: Pomona, Filius, Aurora, Severus, their names were so exotic and magical. He read them aloud revelling in their strangeness.

"Severus?" interrupted the sharp voice of his aunt, "Severus Snape?"

"Yes," replied Harry. "It says here that he's a Head of House and a Potions teacher. You know him?"

"No," Aunt Petunia denied quickly, "Lily did. Nasty, ugly boy, he was - violent." She shivered. Harry was not sure what to make of this. The ugliest, most violent boy he knew was probably his cousin, Dudley, who his aunt thought was angelic, so he wasn't exactly inclined to trust her judgment. He risked a question.

"What did he do?"

"Dropped a tree branch on me - and that was before he was old enough for that school. Goodness knows how bad he got later," his aunt sniffed. "Of course, Lily didn't see it. Hung around with him for years."

Harry stored this information away for later; a friend of his mother, a possible source of information or help. He took a pen out of his bag and filled in as much of the information on the forms as he could before passing them forward to his Aunt Petunia for signature. The knowledge that they were about to separate seemed to have rendered her less churlish than usual, though she did sniff a bit about 'not normal' paper as she signed.

Soon enough they arrived in Charing Cross Road and his aunt was able to direct them to the Leaky Cauldron even though his Uncle didn't seem to be able to see it. Harry unfastened his seatbelt nervously and climbed out of the car, hoisting his school bag onto his shoulder. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia did not move.

"Erm," said Harry to their backs. "Goodbye, then."

Uncle Vernon grunted and turned the car engine back on.

"Go on, we'll watch you go inside," said Aunt Petunia, as if this was a major concession on their part.

"Okay," said Harry. 'This is really it then,' he thought. 'I'm on my own.'

Squaring his shoulders, Harry pushed the door of the pub. He had never been in any pub before, let alone a magical one, but he didn't imagine it would be that busy at ten o'clock in the morning. He was wrong. There was barely an empty seat in the room. The clientele seemed to be elderly, in general, and favouring cloaks in vivid shades with rather eccentric headwear. There was a friendly hum of chatter and a pleasant aroma of coffee and bacon. Harry was very petite for his age and his head was not visible as he passed between seated customers. It was fortunate indeed that his long unruly fringe hid the scar that he was rather proud of. Thus, he was able to approach the bar unnoticed and unidentified, and follow his aunt's instructions to ask the barman to let him through to Diagon Alley.

"Are you on your own, sonny?" asked the cheerful man as he led the way through into a dingy backyard surrounded by a high brick wall. He seemed to be assessing Harry's clothing.

"I'm meeting my Uncle," lied Harry, not ready to trust the first person he spoke to. "My other relatives aren't magic."

"Are you sure you don't want to wait here for him?" asked the barman. "I'm Tom, by the way." He held out his hand. Harry shook it politely wondering if maybe he should ask this smiling man for help. He had already lied though, so he decided he had better to continue.

"Pleased to meet you, Tom, and thank you, but I have to go to Flourish and Botts," he replied managing not to hesitate as he remembered a shop name from his aunt's list. Tom drew a short wooden stick from his sleeve and tapped three of the bricks in the wall. The bricks rotated and shifted to form a neat archway, revealing an astonishing and enchanting street. Harry's mouth fell open. He didn't know where to look first.

"Right you are, sonny," said Tom, chuckling. "That's the third shop on the left." He pointed left to be sure the small boy was not confused. "Just come back here if you get lost. Everybody knows old Tom."

Harry walked forward and the archway closed silently behind him. Ahead, the cobbled street was lined with the strangest topsy-turvy shops. It seemed that anything nearing perpendicular was frowned upon in the magical world as the shops leaned in every direction and the windows were angled in a contrary manner as if the two oddities combined gave the buildings some sort of stability. Shop names were emblazoned in ostentatious calligraphy. Perhaps, there was some competition amongst the proprietors as to who could incorporate the most loops and flourishes into their nomenclature. Harry loved it. He was enchanted by it.

He gazed into the window of Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment, admiring the polished brass scales and telescopes. He knew these items were on his school list but he realised with a jolt that he didn't know how much money he had, and he certainly didn't understand the prices. What was a galleon? A sickle? A knut? He got out his school list and a pencil and wrote down the prices of the items he could see. He would need to find out how much everything would cost and then find somewhere private to count the coins in the velvet pouch. He wanted to buy some extra clothes that would fit him and, if possible, replace his much-mended spectacles. Did wizards even have opticians?

Harry Potter was nothing if not self-reliant. Survival with the Dursleys had often required ingenuity and improvisation, but he had to admit to himself, he was feeling daunted. He endured suspicious glances from the assistant when he braved Madame Malkin's Robes for all Occasions to find out the cost of his school uniform and was scolded for leaving fingerprints when he examined some cauldrons to identify which were pewter outside Potage's Cauldron Shop. He was beginning to be aware that he was attracting curious glances. On impulse, he turned down a narrower, dirtier street labelled Knockturn Alley. The cobbles turned into steps as he descended steeply. Here the shop displays did not spill outside onto the street, the wares were not highly polished; in fact, they were not new.

Harry smiled. Second-hand shops. It was exactly what he needed. This was his sort of place. He had never known new clothes or toys. Yes, the books he filched from Dudley's second bedroom were new, but only because Dudley never read them. Harry didn't need all his school stuff to be new. He needed to make sure he had enough money until he was old enough to earn some more. With that thought in his head, he noticed a scribbled card 'Help Wanted' in the window of a shop displaying a miscellany of junk. Gathering his courage, Harry pushed open the door, setting an old-fashioned bell jangling as he did so. Behind the counter perched a tiny, wizened man, bald but for a tuft of grey hair sprouting beside each ear. He peered at Harry through green lensed spectacles.

"Good morning," began Harry tentatively. "You want help."

The man guffawed almost overbalancing from his stool "You think I'd employ an eight-year old?"

"I'm not eight," said Harry indignantly. "I'm e-eleven - well I will be next week, anyway."

The man eyed him doubtfully.

"Look," said Harry, reaching into his pocket and presenting the man with his Hogwarts letter. The man read the envelope and gave Harry a calculating look.

"Well, Mr. Harry Potter, you're right. That proves you are near enough eleven. So how can you help me?" The man discretely flipped the sign on the shop door to closed and locked the door with a flick of his wand.

"I'm good at cleaning," said Harry, glancing critically at the grimy shop. Another guffaw erupted from the man. This time he did tumble from his perch, but he performed a neat flip in the air and landed on his feet. Harry laughed in surprise. As the man ducked out from behind the counter, Harry saw that he was a couple of inches shorter than him, though a lot rounder. It made him feel safe. This man was comfortingly not normal.

"Well, you've livened up my morning, Mr. Potter. How about I give you a trial?"

"Thank you, sir."

"Have you got your wand yet, lad?"

"No, sir," replied Harry apologetically.

"Never mind, never mind. It's all for the best; no tracing charms on these. And call me Velum." He pointed Harry to a crate that was balanced between two stools. "Have a look in there. Should be something in that lot that'll suit."

Harry looked into the crate. There were wands of different lengths, colours and thicknesses. He could sense a vibration, not physical but tangible nonetheless, as he ran his hand through the pile. He was drawn to a pale, notched wand, narrower than most and smooth with age. As he grasped the handle, a golden light emerged and his heart was filled with joy.

"Excellent, Mr. Potter. Now sweep your wand around the window and say 'Scourgify'. At the same time think about how you would like the windows to sparkle," instructed Velum, waving his arm in an expansive gesture to demonstrate.

Filled with a new certainty, Harry complied. The windows gleamed and new light sharpened the shadows within the shop.

"You'll do, lad. Yes, you are excellent at cleaning," said Velum in satisfaction. "So, you'll be wanting a room and board, I'm guessing?"

"Erm…Yes, please," said Harry, thinking this was better than his wildest hopes.

"Very well. Let's find you a uniform. Can't very well have you seen in muggle clothes down here," muttered Velum. He went to the back of the shop and rummaged through a rail of odd garments, emerging with a rust-coloured baggy dress. "Here we go, this one looks like it will stand a few transfigurations. Point your wand, say 'Colovaria' and think of a colour you like."

Harry thought about all the vivid colours he had seen on Diagon Alley, but something warned him that they were not for this place. He needed to blend in. He was going to be cleaning so he pictured a dark khaki green, pushing his question about muggles away for now.

"Colovaria," he said firmly and the dress transformed.

Velum nodded. "Go in the back and put it on. You won't want anything underneath in this weather." Harry looked at him uncertainly but he didn't want to annoy this amiable man, so he ducked under the counter and went through a door into a room that seemed to be kitchen, lounge and dining room combined. He emerged a few minutes later unable to disguise his discomfort. He felt as if he was wearing a sleeved sack.

Velum raised an eyebrow, "You're even scrawnier than I thought, lad. 'Reducio', that's your next charm, just think about the robe shrinking to fit you. And you can shrink your footwear too, I think."

"Oh, I've done shrinking before," said Harry, regaining his cheer. "I once made a vile jumper so small it would only fit a teddy bear." In no time at all the robe was not pooling around his ankles and his slim frame was revealed. Harry felt marginally better, but he still felt he was dressed like a girl.

"Erm… Is this normal for a boy?" he asked. "Only the boys I saw in the alley had cloaks and trousers"

"You'll get used to it," said Velum. "There are different styles. They'd be wearing open robes, but yours is better for work. Now, you can practise 'Scourgify' for a while and earn that wand, then I'll knock up some lunch. And Mr. Potter, folks aren't so forthcoming with their names around here. I'm going to call you Hal. If anyone asks, that's your name - nothing else. Okay?"

"Okay," said Harry. No-one had ever given him a nickname before. He liked the feeling.

By the time Velum called Harry for lunch, the walls of the shop were a lighter shade of brown, the sandstone floor was unstained and even the ceiling seemed to reflect the light. Harry was feeling light-headed as he washed his hands at the sink. He flinched reflexively as Velum took hold of his arm to steady him.

"Come on, Hal. Sit down and eat," said the old man, kindly ignoring his reaction. Harry looked gratefully at the plate of ham and cheese sandwiches at his place. He had twice as many Velum.

"What about you, sir. This is a lot."

"You need your strength, young man. Has nobody ever told you that magic needs fuel?"

"I lived with people who aren't wizards. Is that what muggle means? I didn't know until today. I thought I was a… a bit not normal, that's all."

"Muggle- that's right. So, you decided to move out, did you?"

"Something like that," replied Harry, embarrassed. "They're not my parents and they don't like magic much." He took a large bite of his sandwich and chewed slowly to avoid explaining more.

"You can rest on the sofa and read this afternoon." pronounced Velum. Harry looked ready to argue but he was quelled with a stern look. "If I'd done as much magic as you this morning, I'd have to take to my bed for a week," the old man continued. "You are going to be a strong wizard, Hal, but there's no rush. Now pass me your book-list and I'll see what we have while you eat."

A short time later Velum emerged behind a floating stack of books that he guided onto the coffee table with a stubby, gnarled wand. Harry was feeling pleasantly bloated and sleepy after his lunch, but he snapped into alertness at the sight of such treasure.

"I've found most of them. There's always a good supply of introductory texts going spare. Start with _The Muggleborn Guide to the Wizarding World_," he suggested pulling a thin volume from the stack. "This should cover the basics."

"Thank you, sir. I can buy them from you," said Harry getting up to fetch his pouch of coins.

"Never mind that, Hal. You can earn them. I've some deliveries you can do for me tomorrow and upstairs would benefit from a 'Scourgify' when you've got your strength back. And by that, I mean later in the week. Now sit on the sofa, drink your tea and read. I'm going to attend to some correspondence in the shop for a couple of hours."

So, Harry learnt about owl post, various unlikely methods of transport, wizard medicine, banking and currency, wizard government, laws about underage magic and how the wizarding world maintained secrecy. Of course, the book generated as many questions as it gave answers and Harry began a list in his notebook so that he didn't forget any for Velum later. Harry's eyes were aching by the time he had finished and it reminded him about finding an optician. When he walked into the shop to ask Velum, he saw there were several customers browsing among the books and bric-a-brac. Velum was keeping a sharp eye on them from his perch.

"I need to get new glasses fitted," said Harry. "Where's the best place?"

"I'll take you to the clinic this evening," said Velum. "They won't do an eye exam without an adult to sign."

Harry looked downcast. He had thought he could go straight away.

"Why don't you take a walk up the alley. Get yourself some parchment, ink, and quills from Scribbulus- you'll not find what you need anywhere else. Tell him I sent you." said Velum. "Remember what I told you, Hal?"

"I'm just Hal," Harry smiled.

"Good lad."

Harry collected his bag, dumped out his clothes onto the sofa and zipped his lists and money pouch into a pocket. His robe had a slot inside the sleeve for his wand, so he slid it in feeling like a proper wizard. He had to lift his robes at the front to avoid stepping on them as he climbed the steep steps up to Diagon Alley. When he reached the top, he saw that the streets were much busier than they had been during the morning. Wizard families sat outside Florean Fortesque's Ice-cream Parlour. Small boys were looking longingly into the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies, admiring a highly polished broomstick. Couples strolled arm in arm, like something from a Victorian costume drama.

When he arrived at the stationer's shop he got out his list to find out how much of everything he was expected to buy. He saw that parchment was sold in rolls, like wallpaper, and that ink, of every colour imaginable, came in glass bottles. He approached the counter hesitantly.

"Hello Mr. Scribbulus," he began, "Velum told me to come here. Can you help me find what I need to take to Hogwarts, please?"

"First year eh?" asked Scribbulus. "I reckon on 200 yards of parchment to get through the year and about six bottles of black ink, six quills and a knife to prepare and repair the nib. Don't choose the cheapest ones if you've never used a quill before; they can be a little temperamental -hence the price."

"Thank you, sir. Could you pick the quills for me, please? I really don't know what to look for," asked Harry.

Scribbulus looked at Harry's diminutive size and picked out six correspondingly small, fine feathers. "These won't be cumbersome for you," he said kindly, "and I'll throw in this primer so you can do a bit of practising before term starts since Velum sent you. That will be four galleons, ten sickles, young man."

Harry retrieved the correct coins from his pouch, carefully counting them out, while Mr Scribbulus packed his purchases into a neat, brown paper parcel. Behind him, a bushy-haired girl was discussing what coloured inks to buy with parents who were obviously not magical. As Harry thanked the proprietor she caught his eye.

"Hello," she said boldly. "Are you going to Hogwarts?"

"Hi," said Harry, deciding to try out his new name. "Yes, I'm Hal. Diagon Alley's great, isn't it?

"I'm Hermione. Your name's from Shakespeare, too. Did you know?"

"No," said Harry, looking confused.

"It's from Henry IV. Prince Hal. He's a naughty prince, led astray by an older friend called Falstaff, but he's the hero at the end," Hermione explained.

"You like reading, then?" asked a bemused Harry, astonished that an eleven-year-old would have such knowledge.

"It's my favourite thing," she answered earnestly. "We're going to Flourish and Botts last, so I can spend the maximum time browsing for some extra reading material." Her parents were beginning to look a bit impatient.

"I'll let you get on," said Harry politely. "See you on the train."

"Okay. Bye Hal." She turned to the shop-keeper, full of questions, as he carried his purchases away. Harr was elated. He had just made a friend and there was no Dudley lurking around to spoil it.

Next, Harry returned to Madame Malkin's, confident that he would now blend in wearing his robe. He selected two packs of plain black socks, an assortment of shorts and briefs, and a pair of pyjamas. These, he decided, were all the new clothes he needed. Everything else, he could buy used and do the spells he had learned this morning. The thought of throwing Dudley's old pants away was extremely satisfying.

As he skipped back down the steps towards the junk shop, which now looked slightly too clean for its location, Harry decided that magic was his new favourite thing and that, just possibly, he had spent the best day of his short life. And it wasn't over yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Every day in every way…

Velum shut up the shop shortly after Harry returned and showed him up to a small bedroom. They worked together to do a quick 'Scourgify' and Velum floated a battered trunk upstairs, on which he had Harry cast yet another new spell: 'Reparo'. This doubled up as storage for his new possessions and a bedside table. Velum explained that, though it was not mentioned on the list, the trunk was an essential part of school life. He would need it both for travel to school and as storage within his dormitory. It had a special compartment for books, like a revolving set of shelves. Harry was able to half-fill the first shelf with the gifts from Velum. He stroked the supple, leather spines of his books reverently and had to be nudged out of a daydream when it was time to visit the optician.

The clinic, it turned out, was drop-in facility for the less wealthy residents of wizarding London. Velum, who Harry had decided was rather paranoid, announced that Harry would be called David Southwell, aged nine, for the purposes of his appointment, casting a glamour to hide his scar as it was 'too easily recognised'. Harry didn't even know how Velum could have seen the scar as it was well concealed under his fringe, but he was too happy at the thought of sorting out his glasses to think it worth arguing about. He wondered if Velum thought his relatives would come looking for him and he was trying to help him hide from them. Harry knew that normal families would do that, and it amused him that he was able to label his relatives as 'not normal' now, just as they had done to him.

The healer tossed aside Harry's old glasses as useless and began asking awkward questions about head injuries.

"I like climbing trees," said Harry blithely, channelling the nine-year-old he wished he had been.

The healer muttered something about irresponsible parents not understanding that a smacked bottom was a lot less harmful than a cracked skull, causing a chuckle from Velum at Harry's embarrassment. He didn't laugh later though, when Harry confessed that his aunt had hit him with a frying pan and Uncle Vernon sometimes sent him flying if he didn't dodge quick enough. There was something about seeing the world sharply through his new glasses that made Harry decide to be candid. Not that he really wanted to say anything about his life before, it was just that Velum seemed very wise and very safe. Plus, he had given Harry, in one day, more than the Dursleys had given him in his life.

"You'll be safe in the Alleys, Hal. Wizards treasure children," Velum reassured him. "Your aunt and uncle shouldn't have just dumped you here, but try to think of it as a kindness. Everything will be better now."

As Harry curled up in _his_ bed, wearing new pyjamas, in _his_ room, reading _his_ Charms textbook, which, thanks to his new glasses, was not making him squint or giving him a headache, he was utterly content. He had eaten two big meals – with a promise of breakfast at eight the next morning – had been allowed to ask all the questions on his list, and even been allowed a bath with hot water and bubbles. Being a wizard was brilliant.

The next morning, Harry delivered a refurbished cage to the Magical Menagerie and a letter to the Apothecary introducing himself as Hal, Velum's new errand boy. The apothecary told him he was glad Velum had some help now, as he wasn't as spry as he used to be. Harry told him in return that he had done a back flip off his stool yesterday, so he must have been incredible before. This caused gales of laughter before the apothecary retrieved a jar of ointment for rheumatism to send back with Harry, confiding that, at 102, Velum should know better than to be showing off for his customers.

Later, Velum installed Harry on high stool beside him at the counter and demonstrated how to prepare the nib on his quill to the correct angle. He used a charm to make temporary lines on some parchment and bade Harry copy the exercises from his primer on letter formation. Beside him Velum was muttering spells at a selection of silver tableware, apparently creating a special order for a wealthy client. It seemed that it was rare for the shop to have any customers before noon.

When Harry began stretching his cramping fingers, he was sent to practise his 'Scourgify' on the stairs and upstairs landing, with strict instructions not to tire himself out. However, Harry was back five minutes later, full of exuberance, asking if he could practise 'Reparo' on some of the junk in the shop.

Velum brought him a box of scruffy books and asked him to go through, one by one, to fix them up. He sat beside Harry inspecting his work and adjusting the price of the book according to its new condition, marvelling inwardly that Harry could adjust the scale of his magic as naturally as breathing. Harry had no idea that what he was doing was in anyway remarkable for a wizard his age and Velum deemed it prudent to keep quiet on the subject for as long as possible to avoid any doubts or inhibition from the child. Harry was grinning in pride as each transformed book was tangible evidence that he really was helping Velum and earning his keep.

He wanted to do more after lunch, but Velum explained that some of his customers didn't have much money and would rather do the spell themselves.

"Tomorrow, Mr Finn, he's the apothecary by the way, has agreed to start lessons about potion ingredients with you. That means that you need to read the first chapter of your Potions textbook to find out which ingredients you need to recognise first." Velum instructed him.

"That's really kind of him," exclaimed Harry.

"No, it's a business transaction, Hal," Velum smiled. "You'll be earning your lesson by preparing some ingredients for the shop for him. He's a good man, though you'll need to watch out for his brewing assistant. He doesn't like kids and is a bit free with his stinging hex."

"What's a stinging hex? Does it make bees?"

"Hold up that cushion and I'll show you." Velum drew his wand and sent a white spark towards the cushion. "It should feel like a sharp slap, but a nasty one can leave a welt. The best thing is to dodge if you see it coming, but he'll likely aim for your bum."

Harry looked apprehensive. "I didn't think magic would hurt people."

"Not magic, Hal, people. People hurt people." Velum began vehemently. "Just like with the muggles, lad. There are all sorts out there." He sighed and then continued gently. "I've a story to tell you about good and evil and I reckon I might as well tell you today. What do you know about your parents?"

"Just that their names were Lily and James Potter and that my dad was a drunk who got them killed in a car crash," said Harry sadly.

Velum gasped. "I'm sorry Hal, I knew they had kept you in the dark about your story, but I wasn't expecting vicious lies."

Harry looked up sharply. "So how did they die?"

"There's no easy way to tell you this Hal. They were murdered."

Harry felt as if Dudley had punched him in the stomach. He took a moment to collect himself and then asked, "But, why?"

"This is the story I need to tell you. Just listen for a moment and then I'll answer anything you want to ask. Okay?"

"Okay" said Harry numbly.

"About twenty years ago a powerful wizard who called himself Lord Voldemort decided that he wanted to rule the wizarding world. At first, he used politics to try to enforce his ideas on the Ministry, but his ideas were extreme and when he encountered opposition, he began to use violence and fear to achieve his goals. He gathered a group of followers, they called themselves Death-Eaters, who were basically ruthless wizards who agreed with his extreme ideas and were willing ti carry out his intimidation tactics. It got to the point that the wizarding world was at war, and when your parents were old enough, they fought actively for the opposition." Velum took a deep breath and continued.

"It became known that Voldemort was specifically targeting your family, because he had heard of a prophesy that a child who could defeat him existed. He believed you were that child."

"But I was a baby!"

"Quite right, but the man was not altogether sane. Anyway, your family and friends sought to protect you and went into hiding. However, they were betrayed and on the night of Halloween, 1981 he was able to find them. Both of your parents were murdered, but when he tried to kill you, the curse rebounded on him and he vanished. The Killing Curse, as we call it, has no defence. It kills instantly and without leaving a mark, but on you it left a scar."

Harry reached up and felt his forehead. "Is it green?"

"The Killing Curse? Yes. How did you know?"

"I have strange dreams, sometimes. A green light, a crying man, a giant and a motorbike that can fly. It doesn't make much sense, but it's always the same."

" I suspect you will meet the giant one day. He will want to befriend you, but I can't explain the rest. Now Harry, this is important: ever since that day you have been famous in our world. They call you The-Boy-Who-Lived because no-one has ever survived the killing curse before.

"I'm Harry, no Hal. Just Hal. I can't have done anything special."

"A commendable attitude," Velum smiled. "But, there will be wizards who want to use you for their own political reasons, because there is a belief that you are very powerful in some way. Some fear that you will be the next Dark leader, some hope for the same. Others believe you will lead the Light. So even though it is almost ten years after the event, you must be cautious who you trust."

Harry looked apprehensive, thinking about how he had just accepted everything at face value the day before, and Velum laughed.

"What do you see when you look at me, Hal?"

"A small wizard?" said Harry, hoping this answer was polite enough.

"I'm part wizard and part goblin, Hal. The reason why you can trust me is that Goblins are neutral in the affairs of wizards. My motivation is friendship and business. I will help you now, and later, when you have many friends, you will bring me customers. Nothing political, nothing sinister." Velum explained.

"Thank you, Velum. I think I already knew you wouldn't harm me," said Harry in relief. "And I already made one friend yesterday. She likes books so I could tell her about your shop."

"No rush, little one," laughed Velum. "Now, do you have any questions?"

"Not now," said Harry. "I need to think about it. I didn't know them, yet I feel like I should be upset. I'm not though, because I know they were good people now. And I'm magic like them."

"So, bring your Potions book and sit with me in the shop," said Velum". "It's a lot to take in and I don't want you brooding on your own."

"Can I have a hat to hide my scar more?" asked Harry. "I want to be Hal for as long as I can."

Harry couldn't help glancing up nervously whenever the jangling bell announced a new customer into the shop, but when none of them seemed to notice he was sitting behind the counter, he began to relax. Even when they came to pay for their purchases, none of them looked at him.

"Have you made me invisible?" he asked Velum when the shop was empty.

"Anyone who knows you are here will be able to see you. I've cast a Notice-me-Not charm on you to avoid unwelcome attention. I did the same when you went out yesterday. Did you notice that no-one paid any attention to you until you spoke?"

"I thought it was because I was wearing a robe," said Harry. "And there were so many people."

"That probably helped," said Velum, "I told you, wizards treasure their children, but they're usually strict with them. They don't generally give them much freedom, so a child your size, walking alone, would get noticed eventually. The shop-keepers will just assume you have a parent waiting outside."

"Is it safe for me to go shopping on my own again?" asked Harry.

"You need to learn to be among wizards, Hal, and you can't learn everything from a book. You're not the first child to arrive alone from the muggle world, and you won't be the last. There's an unwritten code among the shop-keepers in the Alleys that we must give shelter to those in need. Had you approached any one of them, they would have taken you in, but I would not trust all of them with the knowledge that you are Harry Potter."

"Does Mr. Finn know who I am?" asked Harry.

"Not yet," said Velum, "but you can trust him. If he were to discover your identity, he would not seek to use you. I have two more friends on the Alley who will help you learn. First, there's Mr. Fortesque who runs the ice-cream place; he's a bit of a History expert and we often share a meal in the evenings. And second, there's young Greg Wood, who works in the quidditch shop. He'll be teaching you how to fly."

"Woah!" exclaimed Harry. "Really fly? On a broom?"

"I take it you like that idea," grinned Velum. "It's a rite of passage for young wizards, and there will be very few who mount a broom for the first time in class. When you eventually meet wizards of your own age, it's an excellent topic of conversation to begin with. If you can talk about flying and quidditch, you will avoid a lot of awkwardness. I believe Mr Wood has a younger brother at Hogwarts and the whole family is quidditch mad."

The conversation was halted as a group of customers entered the shop and Harry used the knowledge of his anonymity to study them carefully. A thickset man was accompanied by a sandy-haired boy, that Harry judged to be about his age. They selected a battered set of scales and a few textbooks. The boy seemed to be watching the front window nervously as if there was someone outside he wanted to avoid, but after an aristocratic family in matching pale blue robes walked past, he returned his attention to the books. A frown, and a finger pointed to his Potions book from Velum, discouraged Harry from the urge to speak to the boy.

When the shop was once again empty, he explained. "That was Thaddius Nott. He is a marked Death-Eater, but he was one of many who claimed to have been under the Imperius curse, so he was never convicted. The Imperius curse is a terrible thing. It forces you to do the will of your master, even kill if you are ordered to."

Harry gasped at the horror of this, then asked "Claimed?"

"The dreadful thing is we can never really know. It maybe that Thaddius Nott was telling the truth, but, to this day, he lives under a cloud of suspicion. I'm afraid he drinks heavily, and the family will struggle to afford to send their son to Hogwarts. The other family, the one you noticed in the street, have a similar history, but they are, what you might call, filthy rich. The Malfoys have sought to rehabilitate themselves politically through a concerted programme of donations to charitable causes. Avoid them at all cost, Hal. You will not find genuine friendship there, but neither should they become your enemy."

"Thank you for telling me. I'll be able to recognise them now," said Harry.

"There'll be a lot of families in the Alleys buying school supplies in the next month, Hal," Velum explained. "It's important that you recognise them because parents might encourage their offspring to make political friendships."

"So, I won't know if my friends are real?"

"Unfortunately, that'll be true, Hal. You should be fine with muggle-borns, but otherwise, be cautious. If you can make friends on the train before you give your name, that's all to the good."

"Hermione's got muggle parents," said Harry. "The girl from the ink shop," he expanded when Velum looked confused. "She was nice, though she talked a lot, seriously a lot- like her brain would explode if she didn't let it out quickly."

"So, that's one safe friend," said Velum cheerfully. "And, she would be a useful gauge. Kids who accept her without prejudice are likely to be safe friends." Harry felt a bit better after that. He might even manage to have more than one friend.

The next day, he decided that Mr. Finn was definitely another friend, and although he was an adult, he was very good fun. He showed Harry ten ingredients and then made Harry carefully write the name of each on a label. Then, he made a game of mixing up the labels for Harry to correct, then another game of guessing properties and uses of each ingredient. When Harry could correctly identify and describe all ten, he was allowed to do some preparation. Harry had never been permitted to play, never mind do messy play as a small child, so he relished the grossness of harvesting flobberworm mucus. He didn't realise that this was the work part of his morning as he was having such tactile fun with the slime. He was surprised when, at midday, Mr. Finn scourgified his robes sent him home for lunch.

The afternoon began with an hour of 'Reparo' in the room behind the shop, after which the sofa looked decidedly plusher and the coffee table, freshly varnished. Harry, next, read a section from _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _which covered magic insects and invertebrates, many of which were harvested for potion ingredients. Mr. Finn had promised to begin teaching him dissection the next day if he could identify ten types of fly. After that he was sent, dressed on his jeans (somewhat reduced in size) and another transfigured robe, this one shorter and open at the front to meet Greg Wood. He sat helping Greg to polish a couple of brooms that had been sent in for upgrade, while Greg outlined the rules of quidditch for him and enthused about his favourite team, the Holyhead Harpies, which apparently was the only all-female quidditch team, and apart from their quidditch prowess, had other attributes that Greg admired.

Harry, being still of the age where bum was considered a rude word, giggled in delight at Greg's lack of inhibition, but was more interested in the quidditch uniform when Greg showed him a poster. Selecting a box from the back of the shop, Greg then took Harry on his first floo trip. As Harry was so small, they were able to travel together, and they arrived into the hallway of a large country house.

"My family is on holiday for the next fortnight," explained Greg as a led Harry out onto an expansive lawn with a set of quidditch hoops at one end. He extracted two brooms from the box and tapped them to return them to full size. He passed Harry a helmet and set of pads to wear, helping him attach them to his lower arms.

"We're not playing a game today, but you might as well get used to the feel of flying wearing safety equipment," he explained. "80% of injuries could be prevented if everyone used this gear, so it's a good habit to get into."

Harry's broom jumped straight into his hand when he shouted "Up!" He grinned "It's as keen to fly as I am."

"Right swing your leg over and get comfortable, grip the handle where it begins to curve and push off gently with your toes. We are just going to hover first."

When they were five feet above the ground and Harry had got used to the feeling, Greg explained how to use the angle of his upper body to manage acceleration and deceleration, sitting upright to be stationary and being flat to the broom for full speed. Turning involved leaning right or left and going up or down simply involved pointing the front of the broom in the right direction. He then spent ten minutes flying alongside Harry giving advice as he tried out the different moves at a moderate speed before he pronounced him read for a game of chase. By the end of the afternoon, Harry was racing him from one end of the lawn to the other, his light weight and complete fearlessness enabling him to accelerate the fastest.

"That was even better than flobberworm mucus," declared Harry to a slightly bemused Greg. "Can I learn quidditch next time?"

"Velum says you can come twice a week, but you've got a bit more flying to learn first. Quidditch needs one-handed flying," explained Greg.

"Thanks again," said Harry as they returned to the shop. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I've got the owlery to sweep if you want to come and see," said Greg leading him two flights of stairs. A spacious room contained twenty perches, only half of which were occupied. All of the owls seemed to be eagle owls, a bird that seemed enormous to Harry.

"We can shrink the brooms down, but our customers like to have a new broom arrive full sized, especially the top-of-the-range models- more impressive that way. Some people think they'll weaken the enchantments if they resize the broom too much, but that's just superstition." said Greg, answering Harry's unspoken question.

"If you see any large feathers, put them in the green box- Scribulus will collect them- otherwise everything else is shovelled into the vanishing bucket."

"How does it work?" asked Harry.

"Magic" said Greg, teasing.

"Specifically, what sort of magic?" asked Harry impatiently.

"A vanishing charm made permanent with some runes on the base of the bucket. Velum could tell you which runes, but I never studied them."

"Runes sound like fun," mused Harry. "Are there runes on brooms?"

"Yes, there are, but don't play around with runes, Hal. Wait until you've learnt a bit, they're really dangerous if you mix them wrong- explosive dangerous."

"Thanks, Greg, that's good to know," said Harry, "I'll see if Velum's got a book I can read."

"Just make sure he knows what you're reading, and never activate a rune unsupervised- that will get you into uncomfortably hot water, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, Okay," said Harry, wondering whether to ask what he meant. "What's the most dangerous thing you've ever done?" he said, deciding to find out indirectly.

"Probably stupid broom stunts before I was really old enough to be riding a broom. My magic's not that strong so I've never been tempted to go astray there," he confessed.

"What did your parents do?" Harry asked.

"Never got caught," grinned Greg. "I'm the sensible one, Oliver's the reckless little rascal- but then he's a Gryffindor. What do you expect?"

"I don't get away with anything," said Harry looking impressed.

"Don't worry, Velum's rather taken with your energy and curiosity. He won't want to squash you too hard," said Greg.

"I'm not worried about Velum," Harry said quickly. "It's school. I've got to have a magical mentor. It says on the form that he will be responsible for discipline. I don't really know what's normal for wizards."

"You'll get a male Head of House, so Snape or Flitwick. Snape might seem scarier, but Flitwick punishes more from what I've heard. Mostly you get detentions or points taken, but they will get involved if you do anything dangerous. If they would write home about your mischief to a wizard family, they'll get the letter instead. Safety first- that's the thing." Greg grinned at Harry. "Keep your risks on a broom and you'll be fine."

"I suppose," said Harry.

"Cheer up. You've done a good job today. I can see you won't ever be in trouble for skiving off," encouraged Greg. "I'll walk you back to the junk shop."

Greg kept up a running commentary describing the various proprietors and shop assistants. He had Harry in stitches describing their foibles but when he heard about Garrick Olivander, Harry fell silent. He was alarmed to hear that Olivander could remember every face he had ever seen, and even seemed to know those he had never met. He could also remember every wand he had ever sold, and it was his party piece to ask adults about their wands before he sold a wand to a new First Year. Apparently, it was Olivander's job to record every wand sold for the Ministry of Magic, the records being something like a fingerprint to be used in law enforcement and to restrict underage magic.

Later Harry asked Velum, "Do I have to get a wand from Olivander's shop?"

"Good question, Hal," said Velum thoughtfully. "On balance I think, yes, you do. Though not until the evening of August 31st."

"Because he'll know who I am?"

"Exactly," said Velum, "and he is not a discrete man. He would undoubtedly write to Professor Dumbledore telling him about your wand, and I wouldn't put it past him to tell passing acquaintances just because he thought it was interesting. However, it would look highly suspicious if you didn't purchase a traceable wand at your age. Better keep your other wand as a spare, even though I doubt you will find a better match."

"Now tomorrow you'll be spending the afternoon with Mr Fortesque. I would recommend you ask him for some stories about famous wands. You'll find him fascinating, but don't let him feed you too much ice-cream."

"I've never had ice-cream," said Harry. "I'd like to try it."

"I've never known any boy not to love Florian's fudge sundae," said Velum nostalgically. "It will upset your stomach if you eat more than one though."

"Velum. My Hogwart's letter said to reply by owl by 31st July. Should I write to a letter today?" asked Harry.

"Good idea, Hal, but use that muggle paper you brought with you and just say you accept your place. There's no need for them to get wind of where you are staying for now. They might take it into their heads that you need to go back to the muggles and that's not going to help you fit in at school," explained Velum. "We can use an owl from the post office tomorrow."

Harry's heart swelled with gratitude. He could hardly believe that anyone would do so much to help him. He didn't know what to say.

It turned out though, that he didn't need to say anything. Velum just nodded and patted his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As they days went on, Harry became more and more comfortable in his new routine. He spent his mornings in the back room of the apothecary becoming familiar with a wide variety of plants and animals used in potions, and his lunch times and early afternoons with Velum, reading his new textbooks, practising quill-writing or helping with chores. Later, he would fly with Greg, talk History with Mr. Fortescue or learn a new charm with Velum. He thought he hadn't learnt any Transfiguration until he found that colour changing and resizing was considered just that. Harry found the split in categories of spell rather arbitrary.

On Sunday morning, he had progressed to dissecting rats and was carefully separating the various internal organs into separate dishes when a tall, painfully thin man, dressed in black swept into the room.

Harry met his eyes and smiled, but the man stared back as if transfixed then swept out of the room.

"Who is that child?" he demanded of Mr Finn.

"Hal," Mr Finn replied. "Abandoned muggle-born. Walked in last week and old Velum took him in. Sparky little lad, he is. I'll miss him when he goes to school."

"He's eleven?"

"Well, birthday next Tuesday."

"He needs a nutrient regimen. I'll test him."

"I know he's tiny, but he's not short on energy," said Mr Finn doubtfully.

"Nevertheless, his father was a foot taller at his age."

"You know him?" Mr Finn raised his eyebrows. Mr Finn locked the front door and the two men walked into the back room.

"Harry Potter," said the tall man sharply.

Harry looked up, automatically responding to his name. His hands started to shake when he realised his error.

"Put the knife down before you cut yourself, foolish boy," snapped the tall man. Harry dropped it and with a clatter it slipped off the counter onto the floor.

"You're alright, Hal," said Mr. Finn walking over and putting a reassuring arm around Harry's shoulder.

"Velum said it was okay if you found out," said Harry looking up at the friendly apothecary. The silent question hung in the air.

"Snape won't tell. He knows you're safe with Velum."

"He's angry with me. I don't know why," whispered Harry.

"He has exceptionally good hearing," sneered a sarcastic voice.

"Why are you angry?" Harry put his chin up and meeting the dispassionate gaze of Severus Snape.

"Perhaps because you ran away from the safety your relative's home for a new adventure. Anything could have happened to you. Anyone could have snatched you, child."

"That's a lie. They drove me here in their car last Tuesday. I didn't run away. They dumped me," yelled Harry.

"Outrageous!" exclaimed Mr. Finn, squeezing Harry's shoulders more firmly. "Don't worry, Hal. You know you don't have to go back." Harry turned to hide his face in Mr Finn's chest. After a week of kindness, the harsh accusation was almost unbearable. Mr Finn shot a warning look at Snape.

"I am no threat to you, Mr Potter. I have simply been anxious for your well-being," said Snape in a less hostile tone. "I will be one of your professors when you attend Hogwarts."

Harry turned around. "Are you Severus Snape?"

"Professor Snape to you, young man," retorted Snape.

"I didn't mean to be rude. It's just Aunt Petunia said you were my mum's friend." Harry decided he had better not disclose the rest of Petunia's diatribe.

"Yes, she was a classmate," said Snape repressively. "I believe I can better understand the issue with your relatives now. Petunia hated magic with a passion. You were never meant to be sent to her."

"I didn't mean to be reckless either," continued Harry, thinking about Greg's explanation of a wizard's attitude to child safety. "I didn't know I was famous, or that people would want to use me. Velum explained and I stay with safe people who teach me things now. I just did what I had to do last Tuesday."

"Mr Potter, allow me to take responsibility for your health," said Snape in a tone that brooked no argument. "I have reason to believe you have not received adequate nutrition in the past."

"Can you call me Hal, please? Velum says it's not safe to use my full name," said Harry. "I get three meals every day with Velum, as much as I want."

"I'm sure you do erm… Hal, but potions can correct any long-term issues more efficiently. You might as well have the benefit of my expertise."

"Okay, thanks."

"Very well. Go and wash the rat's blood off your hands thoroughly, then we will begin."

Harry scrubbed his hands while Mr Finn made quick work of cleaning the counter.

"You'll need to strip down to your shorts for the diagnosis, Hal," explained Mr Finn. "It's not painful, just a few spells to test different parts of your body." Harry removed his shoes and socks then lifted the robe over his head, revealing ribs, too visible and a slightly distended stomach.

Professor Snape conjured a thin mattress on top of the counter and lifted Harry up to sit on the edge, before he could protest that he could climb up himself, thank you very much.

"Lie down please," he ordered quietly. Harry complied and Snape began making circular movements with his wand up and down the length of Harry's body, all the while muttering Latin incantations under his breath. After a few minutes he allowed Harry to replace his robe, but asked him to sit on the edge of the counter.

"Broken bones, untreated. Fractured skull, untreated. Scar tissue on the lower legs and upper arms. Severe malnutrition. I do not believe you were accident prone, Mr… Hal." stated Snape firmly. Harry examined his toes as if they held the answer to his quandary.

"I don't want to talk about it now. I already told Velum. Can't he tell you," begged Harry.

"Two witnesses are required to take a statement that will hold up in court. These abusive muggles must be prosecuted. They had an allowance for your care that was more than generous. There is no excuse for denying you food or healthcare," explained Snape.

"They were scared of me," whispered Harry. "They lashed out and threw me around a bit when I did something weird. _They_ knew it was magic, but I didn't. I think they thought I wouldn't be strong enough to do any damage if I was hungry. I just want to forget they ever existed. I'm happy here."

"If we take evidence from you, we can deal with it without you ever having to see them, Hal," persuaded Mr Finn. "You deserve to have the money back that they didn't spend on you so that you can buy all your school things in future years."

Harry nodded. The thought of what the Dursley's had denied him, while they indulged themselves, made him the angriest. He allowed Professor Snape to record an explanation for each injury he identified, then he signed the document along with the two adults. That was easier; it was clinical; factual. When Professor Snape started asking about other things, things that Harry hadn't mentioned to Velum, Harry needed a calming draft to get his words out. He told of those words that chilled him. Freak. Boy. Birthdays ignored, Christmas without gifts. That no-one ever believed him. He was a cheat if his score was better than Dudley, a liar if he told when Dudley punched him. Shouting, always shouting.

Professor Snape's lips seemed to get thinner and thinner as the questioning progressed. Mr Finn shed a few tears as he held Harry's hand. Both men were relieved at Harry's vehement 'no' to the worst question.

Professor Snape insisted on carrying him back down to the junk shop for lunch, and Harry felt so wrung out he didn't bother to protest. He lay on the couch and slept while the three men debated the best way to proceed.

When Harry sat up at last, he was presented with food.

"This is the plan we've come up with for you, Hal," Velum began. "Professor Snape is going to brew some potions for you to drink at mealtimes for the next month. It won't change anything, except you will need to get an extra couple of hours of sleep every day, so you won't start at the apothecary until 10am and you'll try to be asleep before 10pm every night. The potions will make you feel tired so you shouldn't have a problem falling asleep in the evening. The next thing is the Dursley's. We are going to delay handing the evidence to the Ministry until after you go to Hogwarts. That way, you will be sheltered from public attention. The last thing is your old injuries. When you get to Hogwarts the school nurse will be able to correct all the problems with your bones. Professor Snape will arrange this, but it would attract too much attention to deal with the problems sooner."

"Mr… Hal, I have considered this carefully and I think that I should recommend Professor Flitwick as magical mentor for you. Given your history, you might benefit from a mentor with a warmer nature than myself," said Snape.

"I want you," said Harry decisively. "You knew my mum."

"Hal, I'm not erm… even-tempered. I cannot promise that I won't shout or put you across my knee if you deserve it."

"If I deserve it, I won't complain," said Harry. "You were angry today, but you still listened and believed me."

"I think the child can see past your shell, Severus. I told you he's astute," smiled Velum.

"Very well," said Snape, "it is decided. In truth I was loathe to hand your care over to another. Trust me that I will be most diligent in ensuring your well-being. I will procure a list of this year's intake, so that we may consider any potential issues with your peers."

"I've already had a warning about avoiding the Malfoys, Professor."

"Good. Be sure to heed it well. Draco Malfoy is likely to be my biggest headache this year as he will undoubtedly be sorted into Slytherin House. You, on the other hand are likely to do well in any of the other three houses, so given the choice, I would recommend you avoid him."

"The next issue is to visit Gringotts. Professor Snape assures me that there are funds held in trust for you. As the sole surviving member of your family, you will be entitled to take control on your eleventh birthday," said Velum. "There is a good chance that the bank will be watched from that day onwards, so I suggest we take a midnight outing and complete your transactions before any observers appear. I will make the necessary appointment discretely."

Harry looked excited at the prospect. "Do you think we will see the dragon?"

"Unlikely," sniffed Snape. "Do you think I would consider it beneficial to your well-being to risk meeting a dragon?"

"Maybe in carefully controlled conditions?" suggested Harry cheekily.

Mr Finn and Velum laughed at Snape's pinched expression. "That child has your measure, Severus," chortled Mr Finn.

"That child is insufficiently protective of his behind," Snape retorted.

"But I'm suggesting stringent safety measures!" protested Harry. "I can't possible have been hypothetically breaking the most important rule."

"The danger here is bating me, Mr Potter," said Snape.

Harry hid his face in his hands.

"You'll never out-tease me, Hal. I'm three times your age," said Snape, more kindly.

"Okay. I'll just watch Velum do it instead," retorted Harry smugly. "He's three times _your_ age."

They all laughed at that, and Snape pulled Harry over towards him. Harry tensed at the touch, then shrieked with laughter as Snape tickled his ribs. No-one had ever tickled him before, and Harry wasn't sure his tears of laughter weren't tears of regret. When he was allowed to escape to the bathroom he heard the comments behind him.

"What did I tell you, he's a sparky kid," said Finn.

"He's very amusing, I'll give you that," replied Snape, "and resilient, thank Merlin. I'll take him back with me to brew his nutritional potions if you've no objection, Velum. He should understand what he is drinking."

"Very well, make him write the directions down. He's still struggling with quill writing."

When Harry returned to Velum that evening he was carrying a crate of potions proudly.

"Professor Snape's cauldron was so big, I could sit inside it. I tapped it with my wand to light it and I chopped 'adequately', which Mr Finn says is like a gold star from Professor Snape. I nearly got into trouble for pushing my magic too much into the potion, but after I dodged the stinging hex, Professor Snape said, let it drip like a tap that won't turn off properly, and I understood then, and he said it wasn't really my fault."

"So, Potions is your new favourite?" smiled Velum.

"Yes, did you know my potion has 23 ingredients and if you add too much of something or at the wrong time, the cauldron can melt?

"Did Professor Snape keep patience with you this afternoon?"

"Well he did get a bit snappy when I suggested an experiment, but then he explained how potioneers used reaction charts and how they 'exhaustively researched' possibilities before they even got out their cauldrons. He also said there was a whole ward at St Mungo's for potion accidents, and that he would take me to see if I didn't 'desist my trial and error mentality'."

"So, you feel comfortable with him then? You still want him to mentor you?"

"Oh, yes. He's great, but maybe you should ask him. He had to take a headache draught and he had a tic in his eye at one point."

"I see. Perhaps you could help him by writing down your questions as they occur and then allowing him to dictate how many should be answered each day. He might, perhaps, direct your reading so that you can investigate your own answers. He will have many duties at Hogwarts, so you may only meet with him once or twice a week outside class."

"He said I could brew with him on Sundays, and he might bring me to Mr Finn's sometimes if my grades were satisfactory. He's a mentor for three older boys as well, and they have a meal together once a month and I can go with them too."

"Excellent, excellent. I can see I won't have to worry about you in term-time. Now come and help me prepare dinner, then you can try out your new potion," said Velum.

Despite his nap, Harry was asleep before 9pm that night and did not wake until 9am the next morning. He almost dozed off when Mr Fortescue was explaining how the Wizengamot was comprised, and got sent home for yet another nap. He was glad of it later, however, when he was woken at 11pm for his meeting at Gringotts. Accompanied by Velum and Professor Snape, he entered the bank from the back entrance on Knockturn Alley and was ushered into a side room to perform an identity test. Velum conducted the negotiation in a guttural, harsh language that Harry realised must be Gobbledygook.

Eventually, Griphook was introduced to Harry in English and they climbed into a small cart that was really quite comfortable for Velum and Harry, but involved wedging of limbs for a man as tall as Professor Snape. After a twisting, turning, spiralling ride the cart came to an abrupt halt, nearly catapulting Professor Snape over the front, at a rocky ledge. When they climbed out Harry had to put his hand on a metal plate in the centre of the door. It revealed a miniature keyhole, into which Griphook inserted a silver key.

To Harry the vault appeared to be full of untold riches. About half of the room was filled with stacks of galleons, sickles and knuts. However, Professor Snape's attention was taken by the empty side.

"Where are the furniture, the portraits and the property deeds?" he demanded. "Where are the books, the family documents, the will, the rings?

"They have been removed by Mr Potter's guardian, sir" explained Griphook.

"Who is my guardian?" asked Harry.

"Professor Dumbledore, of course," said Griphook.

"But I don't know him. I've never met him. Is he allowed to take these things?" asked Harry.

"It is my understanding that he is maintaining several safe houses on your behalf," said Griphook. "I imagine that is where the other property is being stored.

"You will write to him and demand the return of the rings," said Velum firmly. "Threaten, if you must. There is no legitimate reason he could have to remove them from the vault. This is theft."

"Harry, we cannot complete the process of emancipation of a minor without the rings, but we can still file the paperwork tonight and arrange for Griphook to bring the rings to you as soon as possible."

"Do I need to take some more galleons, Velum? I can pay for my room now," suggested Harry.

"No, Hal. I just wanted you to see that you are safe to spend the money you have on your school supplies. You have enough here to get you through Hogwarts, and should have more to help you establish a career once we have prosecuted your relatives. You are comfortably off, by wizard standards. No need for you to be worried," the old man explained.

"What of the gifts?" asked Professor Snape. "Surely some of them would be useful as Mr Potter prepares for school?"

"Professor Dumbledore sequestered a safe vault in case of jinxes or curses on the objects, sir. I don't believe he has inspected the vault, sir." apologised Griphook.

"A request for access should be included in the letter, I believe," said Velum. "Hal, after the terrible deaths of your parents and the disappearance of Voldemort, many families send gifts to you, in sympathy and in gratitude. I think it's reasonable to assume you have never received them?"

"I didn't know. I didn't thank them," said Harry, overwhelmed by the idea that he would have presents.

The return to the surface seemed, bizarrely, but certainly magically, to be another downhill roller-coaster ride. In the meeting room, Harry fell asleep on his chair as a long debate in Gobbledygook began. The next time he awoke, he was in his own bed and light was streaming in the window.

"Happy Birthday, Hal. Get dressed. There's brunch waiting for us downstairs," said Velum, shaking him gently.

"What happened last night?" Harry asked blearily.

"We'll talk later. You have guests," replied Velum leaving the room.

Sitting at the dining table were Professor Snape, Mr Finn, Mr Fortescue and Greg Brown. All of them smiled at Harry's astonishment.

"Happy Birthday, Hal," said Velum. You are sitting at the head of the table today. It's not every day a young man turns eleven."

Harry climbed into the slightly higher chair that Velum usually used and looked down at the feast before him. There were different breads, cold meats, cheeses, jams and fruit. Professor Snape saw his confusion and deftly served him a plate containing a small portion of everything.

"Try it all, Hal, and find out what you like best," he said. Harry wondered if they had taken Mr Fortescue and Greg into their confidence, but he thought Professor Snape would have called him Harry if they knew.

"You know I like potions best, sir," he grinned, trying to relax under so much attention.

"You get a free pass today. We don't want you falling asleep on your broom now, do we?" Snape replied. "Not when you've got some competition."

"You're coming flying with me? Thank you. That's the best present ever!" exclaimed Harry

"No this is the best present ever," said Greg, passing over a wrapped cube. "Go on, open it!"

"Thank you," said Harry, unwrapping a small practice snitch.

"You have to set it up for your height, then you can chase it round," explained Greg. "You might have to wait until you're at school to use it. You can have fun on cold evenings, when it's too cold or wet to play outside. The emptiest corridors are on the seventh floor."

"It's perfect Greg, thanks," said Harry.

The others pulled parcels from nowhere. Professor Snape gave him a leather-bound Potions journal to record his brewing, and Mr Finn gave him a cauldron filled with the ingredients he would need for school. Mr Fortescue gave him a copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. He thanked them all profusely, but his favourite gift was from Velum. He walked through to the front of the shop and returned with a snowy white owl in a cage.

"This is so that you can write to us every week, while you are at school," he said. "I've bought a gift for myself really. It's a girl. You'll need to name her."

"She's Hedwig," said Harry, with certainty. Hedwig hooted in response. "She likes it. Can I send her with a letter?"

"Who would you write to Hal?" asked Snape, concerned.

"My friend, Hermione," said Harry. "She's a muggle- born girl. I met her in the ink shop and I think she has as many questions as I do. I bet she'll write really long letters."

"Invite her to come and have ice-cream with you, Hal," suggested Mr Fortescue.

"Will Hedwig be able to find her? I only know her name is Hermione Granger."

"I'll get her address from the school records for you tonight," promised Snape. "After Hedwig has been once she will remember and will only need you to write a name."

Mr Finn, Mr Fortescue and Greg made their goodbyes, with a promise to meet up at Quality Quidditch Supplies later. Velum brought a metal box onto the table and opened it to reveal some documents, a quill and three rings.

"First you need to put on the three rings onto the ring finger of your left hand," instructed Velum.

"They're massive," said Harry doubtfully. "How will they stay on?"

"Trust magic and watch. You'll like this," said Snape.

Harry finger was completely covered as he slid the three rings on. They glowed white and blended together into one ring, which then reduced in size to fit. The ring was platinum and had three tiny circular crests on the top. Harry looked at it in awe.

"In the centre you have the Potter crest, to the left is the Peveril crest and to the right the Gryffindor crest. You are the last member of all three families. Now that the ring has bound to you, you have the authority to sign these documents. This one gives you emancipation- meaning you have control over your own property and some choices in your life. This one discharges Albus Dumbledore from all duties and responsibilities concerning your upbringing," Velum explained.

"What are the other documents for?" asked Harry, as he signed the first two.

"When you are fifteen, you will be allowed to control everything yourself, but for now Hal, you need some adults to guide you. This is your choice and you can think about it as long as you want, but I would suggest that you name Mr Florian and Mr Finn to handle the political duties of the Potter family. They are both good men, and it is a safeguard to you to split the duties."

"What would they have to do?" asked Harry.

"Do you remember Mr Florian's lesson about the Wizengamot, Hal? About how new laws are written? Your family controls a block of votes and you need an adult to cast them for you, either to agree or disagree with new laws. The Wizengamot is also a court, if somebody is accused of a crime, the members hear evidence and decide on a verdict."

"Does Mr Florian know who I am?"

"Yes, he knew your father's family well, and your physical resemblance is uncanny. He is more than willing to help you," said Snape.

"Now the last document concerns guardianship, we would like to propose that Professor Snape and I share that role, if you are willing, Hal. In essence, the role is the same as that of a magical mentor, but we would also help you manage your finances and provide you with accommodation," said Velum.

"You would really want me?" asked Harry.

"Yes, child, you have quickly become dear to both of us," said Velum. "In all honesty, I must tell you that you would not be short of offers to undertake your care. I had considered making a request to the Wood family, who you have seen have ample resources and are politically neutral. However, I believe Professor Snape is more equipped to keep up with your eagerness to learn."

Harry picked up the quill and signed the documents. He wanted to say 'Thank you for being my family' but he felt strangely fragile about that word, so instead he asked, "Will people be able to find me now?"

"No, fortunately for you, the Goblins can claim diplomatic immunity, so they can file a sealed record of your guardianship at the Ministry. Dumbledore will know that you are alive and well, but he has no reason to believe you are resident in the Alleys. The goblins have told him that you arrived by portkey from an undisclosed location, implying that you have gained the protection of one of the prominent wizarding families. As their homes are unplottable, he will have no way of gaining access to eliminate possible guardians. I suppose he might write some letters but like everyone else, he will have to wait until September 1st to meet you," said Velum.

He put all the documents and the quill back into the box and tapped it to return the contents to Gringotts.

"There, it's done now Harry. Now, why don't you read about how to take care of your owl while your meal digests, then we'll head out to meet Greg," Velum suggested.

Harry was thrilled to be having an outing on his birthday and had great fun playing catching games with the quaffle. He didn't have the upper body strength to shoot goals well, but Harry had already decided he wanted to be a seeker. He was a little overwhelmed that four adults would take time to play with him and thanked them all profusely as they dismounted. They retreated to Mr Fortescue's shop after closing time and ate cake and ice-cream, then climbed onto the roof when it got dark, showing Harry the major constellations and teaching him how to focus a telescope.

Harry became drowsy as Mr Fortescue recounted the myth of Orion and smiled as Professor Snape grumbled about being used as a mattress, all the while tucking his ward closer under his arm.

'I've got family,' thought Harry as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
